Recently by Zainab Radhi
If you go to www.blog.com, and search for Tuesday 29th December, at about 1pm GMT, you will find a bunch of blogs written in broken English by Iraqi university students. I watched as they wrote their new year resolutions, hopes and plans.
Soon enough, the zest of oranges will infuse the bitter-cold air. Mothers have already packed away summer's clothes and out came the cardigans, scarves and those never-out-of-fashion legwarmers. The cold air drove people back into their houses, tucked in front off oil heaters, impatiently awaiting the return of their daily power allowance. The big great park is deserted and the swan boats floated empty in the manmade lake. Scorpions retreated back to the bottoms of the mountains, and thankfully, lizards have also gone.
My name is Zainab, and I come from a four-walled planet inhabited by those who believe in the ethical theory that treats self-interest as the foundation of morality.
This is in no form or shape an article, with a beginning, middle and a conclusion. Unintentional, but a fact of life in this part of the world. Dots marked randomly (or not) on a dusty large map, hoping one day, one way or another, I will be able to dust it off and link the dots.
As I look at a job offer in my email inbox, memories surge of my big sister. I remember her university notebooks and her neat tiny handwriting. I tried to mimic her style one time, stealing one of her notebooks and writing tiny little worlds furiously fast in a studious manner. Everyone admired her. Smart, beautiful, independent and a well respected lecturer in one of Baghdad's universities. She paved the way for the rest of the family. I wanted to be her. Although I adore my mother, I sometimes wondered if my big sister was my mother. I saw many untold stories through her big caring eyes that can be fierce at times. She disciplined me often when she feared my weakness and what it could do to me. Through her worry for me, I saw my lack of experience of the world that I so longed to discover. And when I set foot on the journey to uncover myself, I see her again. I hear her words of authority. I fear her reaction to my decisions in life. I miss her loving grip of my hand as we strolled the streets of Baghdad, treating me to the local fruit juices, the Egyptian mince on bread and taking me to the hospital, convincing me to take my cough medicine or else we would not go to the Leisure City in Baghdad.
I had a dream, that I'd met a wise old man who told me my fortune and gave me a gift. Choosing paths, meeting people, uncovering secrets and experiencing joy and failures, I was told was still to come. 'Maktoob,' the wise old man said. The gift was wrapped inside a hand-embroided silk scarf. I was to keep it until a certain day in my life would come, and I would know when it did. Life seemed to have gone on afterwards, and I travelled the world, fell in love and had children. One child, in fact, called Noor. She looked a lot like my mother than me and she always smiled. As it happens, the dream became unpredictable and strange things followed on. One of which was finding myself on a magic carpet. Heading towards my unknown destination, stars befriended me and the moon had a face, like I always drew it in my school notebooks. Riding the carpet wasn't as easy as it looked in movies. I had to hold on very tight and stay in the middle as the wind cutting my skin could have easily pushed me to the waving edges and I would have fallen, as well as the gift. I knew that I had a child but I didn't seem to recall much about her, except that Noor's smile was everywhere I looked. I knew I'd find her again.
I've had the honour of witnessing one of the true surviving miracles in Iraq: The Iraqi National Symphony Orchestra. I would like to share their story with you.
I wonder, is it normal to develop a habit for carrying a torch in my hand at all times at home?
It's been 29 days and 3 hours since I landed in Sulaimaniya. It's official. This is the longest time I have ever been away from the UK. A time during which I learnt to be an editor, a journalist, a communicator, in both Arabic and English (the Arabic part is debatable), mud puddles survivor, a taxi fare haggler and a Barclays bank plc hater. Home sweet home(s).
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Leanne Chambers - an Ashington mum on her battle with breast cancer
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Glove Affair - Olympic boxing medallist Tony Jeffries
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Anna Heywood - Environment campaigner Anna Heywood writes on ethical living
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Brenda Boyd - the life and times of a morris dancer
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Will in Whitehall - The Journal's Political Editor on life at Westminster
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Adrian Pearson - The Journal's Regional Affairs Correspondent with a look behind the scenes of North East politics
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Mieka Smiles - Journal columnist on the ups and downs of young married life
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Francesca Craggs - on tying the knot, tantrums and tiaras
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Stephen Farrell - The Faz with a fan's eye view of NUFC
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Karen Overbury - our homemaker editor writes and answers questions about property
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Zainab Radhi - on life after leaving Tyneside for Iraq
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Anna Mason - Spa pro Anna Mason gives her expert tips and tricks on all things beautifying
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Tony Griffiths
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Toby Rogers
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Kat Davidson - teaches singing all over the North East for The Sage Gateshead
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Tom Bestford - works on The Sage's Folk team and is a national Rapper Sword Dancing champion
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Fiona Gill - writes and interviews for The Sage Gateshead
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Richard Pattison
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Plot of Bother - allotment gardening with Katharine Capocci
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Graeme Whitfield - The Journal's Graeme Whitfield takes you behind the headlines in his newsroom blog
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Malcolm Reid - on renewable energy
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Jon Half-Ironman - The Journal's Jon Tunney on training for the athletic event of his life
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Liz Lamb - talks about fashion
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Write Said Fred - view from the pram with toddler Fred Telfer
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Tim Taylor - The Journal's Golf Blog Club
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Kasia Bobrzak - writes a blog for the Polish community
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The Cheeky Winkle Adventures - Lily and Toby go Geocaching
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Hannah Davies - on life as a new mum
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David Matthews - on health and safety gone mad
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Alan Tilmouth - on birding in the North East
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Mark Robertson - of the Northumberland Cheese Company on artisan food
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Marc Vargas - an exiled Catalonian writes about life in the North
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John Mackay - Local GP John Mackay writes about the NHS
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Tom Dodds - on transport matters
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Malcolm Clarke - on life as a professional pool player
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